When the last page falls
by moriido
Summary: This is one impossible interpretation that Aohigeko is one of Misha's reincarnations and Elever set out to seek a happy end for his "sister". Written for Meishu's birthday - or the first half is, at least.
1. the final message

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Revo (Sound Horizon). As this is for Meishu's birthday, Aohigeko's name was chosen on courtesy of her roleplay presentation. Noted, lyric translation by Defade.

* * *

_**[ And your birthday present will be… ]**_

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She remembers this white room, the same room where she got prepared for the wedding. Something seems different from what is relived in her head. She is on a white chair with little decoration in the same white gown given for this occasion, facing a white door laced by silver detailed texture. Her mind is too blank to lift herself off the chair, so she stays instead, anticipating.

Knock, knock. She holds her breath, trying to keep her calm.

- Please come in.

The door dissolves, and a young man appears, well dressed in black and red. His face looks so familiar. His hand takes in a book, its title too smudged.

- How is it going, Agnethe?

- …Brother, I'm doing well.

Of course that is how it is. Today must be her wedding day, she must be ready to meet her husband. She trusts in the hand offered to her, leaving the room obediently.

.

It has been a long walk to the hall. Peaceful silence is between them, filling her with both ease and anxiety. She wants to say something, ask something, although not even once he turns to her.

It dawns to her that their shared memories are never written, but she believes him and this strange familiarity warming her heart.

They soon arrive at the hall's main door. He pushes it open listlessly. People are waiting. Her husband is waiting. He must have been displeased, she thought, nervously biting her lips. Her brother tightens his hold, whispering words of encouragement before letting her go.

Music is hummed in the air, commencing the dance. Her feet tremble, stumble here and there. She cannot find it in herself to look at him in the eyes; a small stop from him will be her excuse to give up and cry. By contraries, he slows his pace, leads her gently into the lost rhythm. He doesn't give up on her.

Cheeks dyed with red, Agnethe gathers courage and looks up to her husband. It is her sight reflected in his dark eyes, it is her small hand held dear in his rough palm, it is her and him in the same waltz. Smile returns to her face, beat flows into her steps.

_This time, be happy, [_]._

When Agnethe turns around, her brother is no longer there. The dance ends gaily, and she buries her face in her husband's chest.


	2. loving before being loved

_**[ Brother, do our hearts stop hurting in that paradise? ]**_

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Faint moonlight the mirror reflects reaches out to one of the hanged corpses, with not much left but bony traces of a woman's figure. Her gown, stained with gory red, takes in the pathetic glitter reminiscent of its former grace. A certain melody eerily echos in the air, sometimes hushed by cold breezes from the windows.

A young man steps out of the mirror, clad in black and red, one hand holding onto a book with smudged title. He walks up to the corpse, leaving behind the wavering sight of happiness upon his entrance - a happily married couple, with the bride smiling in pure white.

There is no split second spent to make shape of her once visage, as all he ever beholds is someone's portrait shaded over the rot. But he still sighs. Even if their faces look alike at the mercy of mistaken memories, they are different for all he knows. The truth always stands to call for his fated role, cruelly so.

He opens the book, flipping pages to that freshly written chapter. The ink blot from its last word trails down in crimson, then falls to the ground, making the sound as of blood drops coldly snapping at brick floor. A dissonant harmony born to that and the earlier melody lights up the room; as it becomes more vivid in his earshot, words of the chapter burst aflame, burnt into nothing and the pages return to be blankly white.

That moment, sadness dawns on him.

Beyond the mirror, the happy end marches on to old tragedy, where sin and impulses led to the death of one and many.

.

When he wakes up, his sister's beloved smile welcomes him. He rises from her lap, studies the surroundings in confusion. A field of flowers with gentle breezes running across, the azure sky cleared from clouds. Familiar scenery, or perhaps not.

The book is no longer there. His gaze sinks in disbelief.

_I don't want any of that._

He is wary to look at her, the happy bride he made up. This ought to be some sort of punishment. No one has been safe from violating the rules.

_You kept the promise, didn't you? Even going this far..._

Upon surprise, he sees her trying to find him in the eyes. How much she accepts this distinguished image of him, he wonders, to see through all the illusions crafted by the author. After all, Elever was made to experience the life of an onlooker, not to be a rightful creator. He wasn't made to her brother, the brother whom his sister dearly loves. But the prologue is one kind of paradox, when the love for someone etched into his newborn heart as if it meant to be.

_This time, let's be together, [_]_

She pulls him into the warmest embrace he can record. The man gives in to the delusion of happiness; but shortly before that, he managed to utter one more question on the face of reasoning.

_Who is the liar?_


End file.
